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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27553279">Crying</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/trepidatingboarfetus/pseuds/trepidatingboarfetus'>trepidatingboarfetus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotional Roller Coaster, Heavy Angst, I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, M/M, Unrequited Love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:27:27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,282</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27553279</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/trepidatingboarfetus/pseuds/trepidatingboarfetus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>From the newly released The Lost Boys Volume One GTA V Fanzine!</p><p>What are you supposed to do when your "best friend" asks you to be his best man at his wedding? How are you supposed to pretend you're just OK with that when you're crying inside?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Michael De Santa/Trevor Philips</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Crying</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Remember me mentioning that I was busy working on a huge-ass GTA V Fanzine project with a friend and a bunch of kickass writers and artists? Well, it's out!! Go grab it! </p><p>https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1wuK7xUDkj4vioR6lWT3eqaeelOHmMwv3</p><p>Crying is by Roy Orbison. You'll want tissues. I was drunk when I wrote this. I still need tissues. Fml.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> I was alright for a while </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I could smile for a while </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But I saw you last night, you held my hand so tight </em>
</p><p>
  <em> As you stopped to say, “Hello” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oh, you wished me well, you couldn’t tell </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Why the hell was he here in this fucking gorilla suit pretending to be OK with this sham of a stupid ass marriage? Why had he let Lester talk him into this shit? No, he could be out doing anything other than standing here with his Dixie cup full of cheap booze -- because only the best from the stripper bride’s pimping parents, of course -- trying to look like he gave half a damn about the whole “best man” act like he and Michael even knew what the fuck it entailed other than one bachelor party with hookers and blow which had only ended with his mouth around Michael’s dick giving him hopefully the best goddamn head of his natural life as usual. But Amanda didn’t have to know that last part, obviously. </p><p>The tuxedo grated on his nerves, just a bit too tight around the collar, and he hated it, but as he fiddled with it, a hand came up from behind him and batted his away. “Stop that,” Michael clucked anxiously. “You’re going to fuck it up.”</p><p>He turned to gaze upon the face he loved to look at even though it hurt so much to see it right then. “OK, princess. I’ll leave it be since it’s your special day,” he goaded goodnaturedly and chuckled as Michael rabbit-punched him in the shoulder a few times. </p><p>“You’re a jackass, T,” his best friend laughed, and his eyes sparkled with a hint of delight as he did so. Then he stuck his hand out as if he were expecting something, and Trevor stared at him in confusion until Michael spoke up, bemused, “You Canucks <em> do </em> know what a fucking handshake is, right?”</p><p>Oh, that fucking asshole! </p><p>He took Michael’s right hand in his, and it was more of a battle of wills and strength than a handshake as they both gripped as hard as possible while staring into each other’s eyes. Michael was the first to relent with a little snicker under his breath as he pulled Trevor to him in a hug and whispered into his ear, “Hey, thanks for being here for me. It means a lot to me.”</p><p>Trevor shivered against him and mumbled back, “Yeah, well thank Les for that, not me.”</p><p>Michael pushed back and glared at him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”</p><p>“I just...I,” he started, but the words fizzled out on his tongue. There didn’t seem to be much of a point to uttering them now, and it would all just end in regret, so he heaved a long sigh. “You know, Mikey, it doesn’t matter. It’s your day. Go enjoy it.” He smiled brightly, his lips twitching a bit. </p><p>His friend was still staring at him as if he were examining him, so he tried to relax and make his smile more believable, but if Mikey didn’t move on, he was going to fucking crack. He could already feel his eyes trying to leak. </p><p>“You’re sure you’re OK, Trev?” Michael looked at him in disbelief. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> That I’d been crying over you </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Crying over you </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Then you said, “So long” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Left me standing all alone </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Alone and crying </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Crying </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Crying </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Crying </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It’s hard to understand </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But the touch of your hand </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Can start me crying </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He had to get out of there before he made a fool of himself. “Yeah, Mikey. I’m good.” He coughed a bit to mask the way his voice was starting to tremble. “Just need a drink. Something in my throat.” He moved to walk away, but the touch of Michael’s hand jerked him out of his self-preservatory thoughts, and he stopped. </p><p>“You <em> know </em> I love you, right??” his friend said in a fit of desperation. He cleared his throat. “You’re my best friend, I’ll always love you.”</p><p>It hurt. It fucking <em> hurt</em>. He did love him, and he didn’t want to lose him, but <em> goddamn </em> did it hurt to hear that. It physically pained him to know that unless he could somehow go back and convince the fates to have him be born with the correct fucking body parts that would allow Michael to get over his own repressed upbringing so they could be together, he would always be the consolation prize. Amanda would be first. He would always be a second thought. </p><p>He was always someone’s second thought. He had. To. LEAVE. </p><p>And he was saved blessedly by the grand prize. </p><p>“Ah shit, what the hell does she want? I’ll be right back, T, don’t run off.” And like that, Michael was gone. Off towards the new Mrs. Townley who was already showing in her bargain bin wedding dress. </p><p>But Trevor couldn’t stay any longer. The tears were already coming as he passed Lester who nodded at him understandingly as he barreled out of the community center double doors and the fuck away from there to solitude where he could fucking sob in peace and lost pieces. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I thought that I was over you </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But it’s true, so true </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I love you even more than I did before </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But darling, what can I do? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> For you don’t love me </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And I’ll always be </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He backed up against a tree near a bench and took a deep breath before he began to let the crying commence, wondering if the tears were going to fucking stop at this rate. He hadn’t cried so much since his dad had left him in the goddamn shopping mall, and this pain was so eerily similar, such a soul-sucking loss. He loved <em> LOVED </em> Michael with all that he was, just like he’d loved his dad, goddammit, and here he was, just a big fucking sucker. It hadn’t mattered in the end then or now, he thought bitterly as he wiped the snot dribbling miserably from his chin. He couldn’t just turn that shit off, either. What the fuck was he supposed to do now that Michael was playing one half of the happy homemaker duo? </p><p>“TREVOR!” </p><p>He squirmed against the tree, choking down his next batch of cries. He could hear footsteps crunching through the scattered leaves carpeting the ground, and he clapped a hand over his mouth and bit down, trying to still himself so he wouldn’t be found, but he knew better.</p><p>For fuck’s sake, he just wanted to be alone in his misery. He didn’t want to have to go back in there and pretend to be OK anymore. He wanted to go back to his shitty fucking room, drink to his heart’s content, and then snort several lines of coke until the damn thing exploded so he didn’t have to feel anything ever again. </p><p>More tears came down on their own no matter what he did. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Crying over you </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Crying over you </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yes, now you’re gone </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And from this moment on </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I’ll be crying </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Crying </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Crying </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Crying </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yeah crying </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Crying </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Over you </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Trevor, where the fuck did you go?” Michael called out and then under his breath, he added, “Asshole.” </p><p>Unaware that said asshole could hear him plain as day several feet away, his bloodshot eyes widening and then clinching shut due to his suffering. After a few minutes of waiting, his married best friend shrugged and gave up, walking back towards the building to start his new life.</p><p>Unaware that a former lover now turned best friend was slinking across town to drown his sorrows for the night so he could try to forget his now old one.</p>
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